


Missing A Step

by hulklinging



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Brain Damage, Brunch, Concussions, Drinking, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Concussion Syndrome, Team Breakfast, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulklinging/pseuds/hulklinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Setbacks are frustrating, but they're better with friends.</p><p>Or: Bitty has a bit of a relapse. Jack notices before he does, and makes sure he's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing A Step

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written for this fandom before, I hope it's okay! Also, post-concussion syndrome is something I am very familiar with, so this was a little self-indulgent on my part. If you have any questions about how I've written Bitty and his injury here, don't hesitate to ask.

He's fine except when he's not.

Sometimes he reaches for a word that's no longer there, and it's like missing a step, like those trick stairs in Hogwarts, he's walking not watching his feet and suddenly he's knee-deep in a hole he didn't know was there.

It happens less, as he heals and gets strong again. He pretends he forgets what it's like, that moment in the air, waiting to fall.

The second time it happens, there's no slow motion. They're at a party, and someone bumps into him and he's a little bit unsteady, and he stumbles backwards into a wall. He doesn't hit it hard, but when he looks up the lights are much too bright and the world is spinning.

"...don't feel well," he says, or thinks he says, and it takes him ten minutes to put one foot in front of the other and get up the stairs. He remembers thinking _this is wrong, I didn't drink enough to feel like this_ but he's just so tired. He'll deal with it when he wakes up.

He wakes up slowly, and it's harder than it should be, although he doesn't realize it in the moment. He wants to get up, he has no idea what time it is but everything feels weird, it's too bright in his little room. He must have slept in. _Get up,_ he tells his body, but his body doesn't want to listen. He is an athlete, he spends every day teaching his body to respond to his commands, and the fact that it's refusing makes him angry enough that he manages to force himself to his feet.

Once he's there, he's not sure what he's supposed to do. He knows he got up for a reason. He knows where it's supposed to be, in his head. But there's nothing there. He growls in frustration. How much did he have to drink last night? He's obviously struggling with a hangover, and it makes him unusually irritated.

 _Deep breath, Bittle_. Okay. There had been drinking. After drinking comes hangovers, which he is feeling right now. Hangovers need food. He can make food.

He heads downstairs, and it seems to take a long time. He feels dizzy, like he's still a little intoxicated, and he has to grip the handrail tight to make sure he doesn't stumble. He's the first one downstairs, or at least the first one downstairs and conscious (it looks like Chowder has gone and passed out on the couch), which is perfect. That means he has the time to make a really good breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, toast, maybe a berry compote, even. Bacon, of course. He gets to work.

When he reaches for the flour, his mind goes blank. He can't remember the proportions he needs for his mom's pancake recipe, which is absolutely insane, because he can remember learning it when he was five, the first thing he ever learned to cook. He can remember sitting by his mother as she explained what to do, but the numbers are just not there.

There's a sick feeling in his stomach that has nothing to do with a hangover. Eric pushes it down and opens up his own vlog, because he's pretty sure he made pancakes for one of his very first videos. He did, and as he watches it, the world settles. The hole is gone, the memory returns. He's just being silly. He drank, he hasn't been sleeping well, sometimes things like this happen. No reason to panic.

He's almost finished the first batch of everything when he hears a confused voice say his name.

"Bittle?"

He turns to see Jack standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He's geared up in his running gear, so he must be just coming back. There's something in his eyes that Eric doesn't like, though. Concern.

"Hey, Jack!" His smile feels only a little forced.

"...do you know what time it is?"

He doesn't. He didn't bother to look, and then he was distracted finding that recipe. But Jack is usually back from his run around... sixish? "Six thirty?" he guesses. Early for it to be so bright, but that's also something he can blame on the hangover, too.

Jack's shaking his head, though. "It's five in the morning."

"...Oh." Too early for all this food, then. His body clock is floundering, his head swimming in confusion. All at once the dizziness is too much, and he crumples to the floor, head between his knees, and has to focus on breathing for a bit.

A tentative hand brushes at his back, and he leans into it. Later, he'll have time to panic over this, over how Jack Zimmermann sits on the floor of the Haus kitchen with him for what feels like forever, the hand on his back traveling up and down his spine as he remembers what being grounded feels like.

"The- the pancakes," he murmurs weakly, after a few minutes.

"I took everything off the stove," Jack says, and for some reason this is so overwhelming that Bitty starts to cry. He expects Jack to pull away, but Jack actually pulls him a little closer, and his hand moves up to brush his hair as well. As Jack runs his hand over the back of his head, he hits a tender spot, and Eric hisses and jerks away. Jack's hand freezes immediately.

"Bittle."

"Sorry!" Eric says immediately. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

Jack's hand is still on the back of his head, but now it's not moving, just a soft pressure against the back of his neck. He runs his fingers over the small bump behind his right ear, and Eric has to work to not pull away again.

"Did you hit your head?"

He might have? He can't remember. "...maybe?"

This does make Jack pull away. Eric doesn't look up, but he can hear Jack getting to his feet, walking away. Eric closes his eyes and tries to stop crying out of sheer force of will. Now on top of everything, Jack is angry with him. He's really messed up. Can't make a pancake, can't make his captain happy. He's just a screw up.

The footsteps come back, and suddenly there are arms underneath him, lifting him up. He flails a bit, and looks up at Jack's face. There's a storm in his blue eyes, and he's frowning, but not at Eric, so maybe he's okay.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting you in bed."

Eric is pretty sure every inch of his skin has gone bright red. "But... but the food?" he protests weakly. "And I can walk, still..."

Jack ignores him, instead heading up the stairs, into Bitty's room, and placing him carefully back into his bed. That done, he walks over to the window and closes the blinds. Eric should argue with this treatment, but he's caught up in how gently Jack put him down, how he cradled his head as he did. How when he looks back at Bitty, even in the darkness of his room, the concern and care is obvious on his face.

"You need to rest," Jack says, and maybe it's just Eric's head, or the shadows in the room, but Jack's voice is softer than he's used to hearing it. Comforting. Eric wants to shake his head, get up and clean the mess up downstairs and pretend he's okay, but Jack actually goes so far as to tuck him in, with brisk efficiency that in no way counteracts how intimate the gesture is, and he feels warm and safe and the low grade headache that's been bothering him since he woke up seems to seep into the pillow, leaving him feeling light and sleepy. He opens his mouth, but is asleep before the 'thank you' leaves his lips.

He wakes up hours later to the smell of pancakes. He's confused, because if he's waking up to that smell, it means they're not his pancakes, and who is cooking them, then? They don't smell burnt, but that doesn't stop him from stumbling downstairs. The sight in the kitchen stops him in his tracks.

The whole team is in the kitchen. They're bustling about, chatting and laughing. Dex and Nursey are gathering plates and bickering over whether they need forks as well as spoons, Shitty is serving up eggs while Jack carefully flips a pancake. The living room floor, he sees, is covered by a large blanket that Chowder is currently struggling with to get it to lay flat.

"Bitty!" he shouts, when he sees him. "We're having a breakfast picnic!"

A grin starts to spread across Eric's face as he takes it all in. "I can see that. Y'all are too sweet."

The light flashes off Chowder's braces as he smiles back, and it doesn't bother Eric at all.

"It was Jack's idea!" he says, and stands up to move back into the kitchen, just in time to grab a plate holding an obscene amount of toast from Holster. "Can we do this after every Kegster?"

Eric blinks in surprise, and looks back at the kitchen, just in time to meet Jack's eye. It might just be the heat of the kitchen, with all those bodies in that small space, but his cheeks look just a little red.

"Sure, Chowder."

He's healing, and it doesn't take a lot, to send him to pieces again. But here, in this house, there are enough hands that picking himself up again doesn't have to be so hard. In this moment, his headache is gone, his vision is clear, and he's surrounded by family. That makes it all worth it. That makes him feel like he can be okay.

He sits down for brunch with his family, and it feels like the ground is just a little more solid beneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, you can always [reblog it on tumblr!](http://hulklinging.tumblr.com/post/141517199588/title-missing-a-step-fandom-check-please)


End file.
